AND OF THE SON
by saj aneri
Summary: Draco calls upon himself a mended fate. Now on a road where only time holds his new destiny, he must commit the ultimate sacrifice so to deliver his soul into the hands of salvation. DrHr
1. Trading Providence

__

I'M A MALFOY AND I'M MORE POWERFUL THAN ANYONE COULD IMAGINE

So, here's the thing. I have finally finished this story after a month... hopefully, you'll like it. And since the Prologue is so short, I've decided to take it down and re-uploaded the file with Chapter One right after the Prologue. Hope you enjoy!

i sink into the never-ending black hole / that sucks my body and drains my soul / enduring the purest of pain to ever hold me / a lost love, a lost youth, my lost forever for eternity -- "farewell me"

~*~*~*~

**PROLOGUE: In Solace with Guilt**

He walked back towards the manor for he had nowhere else to go. Although he knew that there would be no one waiting for him there… it felt like the only refuge he had. He could still smell the blood of kill on his shirt – the stench of a Muggle. He shouldn't have had this crimson proof on him. For there was enough magic that could end any breath without shedding a single drop of blood. This was unnecessary and uncalled for.

Faster and faster he strode the hill up to the manor; like trying to hide from the glares of the steadily rising sun. And when he closed the doors behind him… his pale skin seemed to glow in the dark deserted house. And yet, at the end of the room… his grey eyes reflected something shining…

As he motioned his way towards the curious object, his strides slowed down for he saw it.

Easily resting on top of the pulpit was the spear.

He could wash the blood away from every thread of his clothing… every inch of his carcass… but this…

This spear… that summoned itself in front of him would serve as an eternal reminder.

_What is this?_ he chided himself as he stood frozen in front of the shimmering object besmirched with blood itself. "Evanesco!" he yelled at the top of his lungs; pointing his wand hopelessly at the sword.

But it didn't disappear. His eyes widened in surprise. _It can't be…_ "You can't be insusceptible to magic! I'm a Malfoy and I'm more powerful than anyone could imagine! Evanesco! Evanesco! Evanesco!" He picked up the spear which failed to disappear from his sight and marched out towards the cliff behind the manor.

He threw it down the cliff and to be certain, he pointed angrily and shouted, "Discedo!" The spear swerved and flew far from him. With laboured breath, he watched and waited until he couldn't see even a single glimmer of reflected light from the sword. And then quietly, he went back to his deserted refuge.

But once inside… as if no time had passed… the sword appeared on the fireplace's mantle. His frustrated sobs gradually disturbed the quiet. He was young and alone and at this time… he became hopelessly desperate. He couldn't get rid of it – the eternal reminder of his guilt. Maybe he was bound to carry this with him.

"Curse you filthy Muggle. Curse you and your soul and your kin and your race," he muttered under his breath. "I swear my blood will not rest until all of you are in oblivion –" his voice faltered when in a glimmering flash, markings of words wrote themselves on the blade. He read them. And the words were familiar… as if destiny was scolding him.

If, then, he couldn't get rid of it – he would put it away…

To be disremembered.

"Reducio!" His voice quivered expecting the sword to remain the same. But it shrunk just like he wanted it to. Now, it was a dagger – but still as sharp.

He grasped the dagger in his hand and washed the blood away with water. He grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped every inch of the ripper then carried it into the dungeons.

And here, he buried it.

Here, he would leave it with the memories it brought with it.

Here… it would lay undisturbed.

And forgotten…

For centuries to come.

__

~*~*~*~

i twitch in front of the mirror / cause there stands looking at me / eyes of sorrow, soul of suffering / there, looking at me… a person dying -- "angst"

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

__

IF YOU CAN KILL – YOU WOULD'VE DONE SO WHEN VOLDEMORT ASKED YOU

i crumble in a corner of the room / at the end of the day, i wash my face with salt / i burn my pillow with my tears / i shout i yell i cry to the heaves / i hear it thunder, growl; i hear it destroy my senses / but though i carry the world it burdened on my shoulders / seems like heaven can't hear me -- "angst"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER ONE: Trading Providence**

_I beseech thee with water streaming through my veins   
'Tis my redemption, to divide me from these pains   
Cleanse my soul and rid my heart of disdain   
I relinquish in your powers to break these rusty chains_

He knelt in his room until his knees were numb. He looked at the dagger in his hand and longed to strike himself with it. He could not take this agony any longer. It was becoming too much of a burden to him. Every night he lay in bed and all he could see was the image of death. His skin was paler than the moon he cried to at night. And his eyes were now sunken as if he hadn't slept for months.

He was a man… with nothing…

To lose.

A sudden wind swirled. He turned around – surprised for there was neither a window nor a door open in the room. Then he stood up just as sudden and drew out his wand. "Granger!" he called out Hermione who was still looking just as surprised as him.

Hermione followed where the voice came from and saw Draco looking at her wide-eyed. "What am I doing here?" she demanded.

Draco put down his wand hand and looked at her with condemning eyes. "I should ask you the same thing, Granger," he muttered through gritted teeth as he advanced towards her. "Tell me, _how_ did you Apparate in here? These walls are protected. No one can Apparate in here unless you are bonded with the blood of a Malfoy."

"You have got to be kidding me. I did _not_ Apparate, Malfoy!" Hermione retaliated with the same tone of voice. "You did something to me," she said as Draco now stood a few feet in front of her.

But Draco didn't mind her. His rage was getting the better of him. So, with one swift movement, he raised his hand again and pointed his wand straight to her heart. "Speak now, Mudblood or I'll kill you!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide and involuntarily reached for her own wand and aimed it at him. She didn't know what to think or what to do but it was apparent that he was capable of hurting her.

They stood in silence for a minute that one could hear a pin drop. Which she did. But it wasn't a pin; it was a trickle of blood that fell on the floor. She looked down at it and then back up at Draco. She noticed that the hand he was holding up was shaking… and then there, crimson against his white skin, were four deep cuts across his arm where his sleeve was pulled up.

"You're bleeding," she muttered under her breath, conscious that somehow she let it out that she was concerned about the pool of blood gathering on the floor – dripping steadily from inside him.

"That'll heal," Draco said, "but when I'm done with you… no magic can save you… no magic can bring back the dead."

Hermione looked straight in his eyes... there was nothing there but desperation and hopelessness. "If you can kill – you would've done so when Voldemort asked you."

"DO NOT! DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT!" Draco's hand shook uncontrollably now as the same arm was seeming to be bleeding him to death. "You're still not answering me! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!" he continued with rage, desperately trying to steady his aim at her.

Hermione flinched but Draco didn't notice. He was too preoccupied filling himself with hate. She surveyed him more thoroughly and saw the dagger he had been clutching in his left hand. Just then, realisation swiftly dawned on her. "You summoned me…" she said. "You summoned me?!" she said again, demanding an explanation.

"I did no such thing!" Draco yelled at her. No, he did no such thing. He couldn't have. Why would he? She was a Muggleborn. A _filthy_ Mudblood.

He winced, very much aware of the life draining out of him. His arm was now starting to numb and his vision getting blurry. His hand let go of his wand. And as he became more light-headed by the minute, he knelt down thinking that this was what he was asking for… sweet sweet death.

"Malfoy," Hermione called as Draco watched the blood seep out of him. "Draco," she called again but he wouldn't answer. She lowered her wand and advanced towards him. All she could hear was his weeping.

Draco was crying?

She didn't know what to do. For a while she just stood there looking down at him. Would she let him die? _No. I'm not a killer._ "Draco, what have you done to yourself?" she said as she knelt in front of him and grabbed his bleeding arm. But he wouldn't even look at her… his eyes were tightly shut as if waiting for his imminent death. "Draco? Draco, answer me. Draco!" she practically screamed when nothing still came out of him. She didn't wait another second. She pulled her wand again and yelled healing spells at his wounds.

"Stop!" Draco shouted, pulling away his arm.

"Malfoy, keep steady!" Hermione scolded as she pulled back his arm.

But Draco was persistent. "No!" he yelled again as he pulled hard that he ended up lying on the floor – his body weakening by the second.

Hermione breathed out a sigh of frustration. She stood up to get closer to him and knelt beside him. "You can kill yourself anytime else you want, Malfoy. But I'm not letting you die in front of me."

Draco started to make a whimpering sound… then his voice gradually grew louder into a laugh – a mirthless laugh. "You always think that you could save everyone," he said to her but his eyes were still closed as he remained unmoving on the floor. "Stop trying to be a hero, Granger."

* * * * *

Draco woke up blurry-eyed with a massive headache and a feeling that someone had been watching him. As he _was_ being watched. He could make out a human figure that was standing right beside him as if waiting. And when his vision had finally cleared, he saw Hermione Granger – with a determined look – aiming a wand just a few inches from his face. He sat up straight in surprise, putting the most distance he could from Hermione; and then realised that he had passed out and that she left him lying on the floor where he had fallen before. Instinctively, he reached for his wand… but could not find it anywhere with him.

"You really think I'm that dumb?" Hermione muttered, interrupting Draco's frantic search for something to protect himself with. "Now… that your sanity's dawning back on you, I want you to talk, Malfoy," Hermione said in a calm yet deeply heated tone. "What am I doing here?"

Draco shot her an angry look. "I told you I didn't do it. Why would I want someone like you in my home –?"

"You call this a home?"

Draco stood up. That was it. "Look here, Granger," he began, glaring at her with eyes that were as pale as his skin. "I didn't call for anybody. I especially didn't call for a… _filthy…_ Mudblood like you."

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione sent Draco flying into the air and back away from her when she felt that he was getting too close.

"Stupid witch!" Draco roared. He let out a soft grunt when he used his right arm to help himself up. He remembered the dagger… and the blood… and the healing. But he realised that his wounds were not really healed… they just stopped bleeding. He assumed that Hermione did this intentionally to make him suffer. But he chuckled showing her his wounds and said, "What have you come to now? You've become so dim you can't even perform simple healing spells properly any more… or maybe you never did learn them –"

"I am not playing around, you arrogant git!"

"Then why don't you just go away?! Disapparate! You did mange to breach these walls before."

Draco waited for her answer but Hermione only stared at him lividly. It was only after a minute that she replied – frustrated. "I can't… Disapparate from inside here… Do you actually think it was my choice to stay here?"

"Huh!" Draco walked across the room. "Then there's the door, Granger!" he said, banging the door open. "Don't tell me you haven't figured that out by now. You're starting to make me think that you're thicker than I actually thought you were." He stood by the door and waited for her to walk through it. But somehow, deep inside him – there where he kept everything else he suppressed – he didn't want her to take another step towards that direction that would mean she was leaving.

_Don't be foolish. You're being delirious. This is just your isolation that's getting the better of you._

Hermione's nose flared as she tried to calm herself. She was still glaring at Draco – infuriated that he kept on denying his reason why she suddenly ended up in the manor. She had known the reason right after he passed out on her; but all she wanted was for _that_ reason to come out of him. But if he wasn't talking… she better leave then. She wouldn't waste another minute more waiting for something that apparently wouldn't happen. Two hours of hearing him moan in his sleep as if running away from a nightmare was already enough. So, she turned her eyes away with a frustrated sigh and walked straight towards the door.

And at the exact moment that her foot landed at the door, she was thrown backwards as if there was a violent fortress that wouldn't let her leave. She collected herself from the floor and glared again at Draco. "Now, you understand? You arrogant fool," she muttered as she stood up.

Draco laughed, taking pleasure of Hermione actually hurting herself. "You can't leave the room? I'm afraid you're going to rot in here, then," he said and then stepped outside and closed the door with a bang.

* * * * *

Draco hadn't even taken five steps when it happened again – a sudden wind swirled. Now, he watched it unfold in front of him. Then, Hermione appeared again, looking confused by the sudden change in environment. She spotted Draco, who was looking at her wide-eyed.

With rage, Hermione bellowed a spell that sent Draco in the air again. But this time, the spell was even stronger than before that Draco landed on the other side of the room. She walked towards him as he struggled to sit up. His wounds still hurt and his body was still weak; but somehow he still managed to keep that conceited look on his face.

"Do you know _why_ you haven't healed completely, Malfoy?! It's because those wounds aren't supposed to heal with magic. They will take the natural process of healing… do you know why?" Hermione was now standing beside him.

Draco didn't answer. He was busy trying to stay seated up. He leaned on the wall and looked up at her with a smug expression.

"Do you know why?!" Hermione shouted, frustrated that she was stuck in this cold desolate place with Malfoy – of all people. When Draco still didn't answer, she continued. "You bound yourself to me! You bound yourself to my blood! The blood of a Muggleborn – the blood of a _Muggle._"

Draco stared at her. _No. That's…_ "That's not possible." 

But Hermione wasn't finished. She took out Draco's dagger from her pocket – the dagger that he was firmly clutching in his hand up until he lost consciousness; and knelt in front of him. "What were you doing? Trying to call upon redemption? Were you expecting _death_, Malfoy? Do you believe that's what's going to save you? Do you even thoroughly know what this is?" she said; her voice now calming down, as she held up the dagger to his face that he could clearly see. "This is the Blade of Deliverance. Now I'm not even going to ask why it's in the possession of the most morally corrupt family I know… but you obviously don't know how this works, do you?" She waited for any sort of reply… but Draco remained silent – clutching his arm and avoiding her gaze. "This isn't magic, Draco. It doesn't recognise magic. This blade is governed by a power far superior than any charm. As far as this dagger is concerned, you are nothing but another lost soul seeking for salvation."

* * * * *

For a while, Draco didn't say a word. He didn't even move; although his gaze slowly turned to Hermione. But this time, Hermione saw in those eyes she hadn't seen from him before. He looked at her like he wanted someone to catch his fall. He was despondent. And he was aware that he was short of reaching out his hand to her. And then completely, without any more thinking, he let down his defences…

"I just want it to stop…" he mumbled so softly that Hermione hardly caught it. He put his hands on his face in surrender and laid himself on the floor – he was weeping. Crying like a forsaken child. For indeed, he was lost and abandoned.

For the first time, Hermione saw him in a different light. She couldn't see the Draco who marched through the school hallways with that permanent air of insolence. This was the side of him that he showed nobody… he was weak, he was terrified… he was human – just like everyone else. "Draco," she whispered to him as she put a hand on his trembling shoulders. But nothing could soothe him. Nothing could make him better any longer.

* * * * *

Hermione looked at Draco. They were back in the room where it all began. She was standing in the middle of the room; facing him. While, he… he was sitting in an armchair, his eyes gazing at nowhere.

"I have to go," she muttered.

Draco bit his lip. "Then you go," he said without even as much as glancing at her.

There was silence before Hermione said, "I can't. I can't Disapparate out of here until you let me go."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at her. "How am I supposed to do that? I don't even know how you ended up here."

"Let me go," Hermione said. "You're holding on to me. I can't Disapparate out of here until you _let_ me go." 

Draco stood up without taking his gaze off her. But unlike earlier, Hermione waited for him to reach her until there were only a few inches in between them. "Fine," he said in a hollow voice. "I'm _letting_ you go." 

There was an unexplained emotion in Hermione. She tried Disapparating again but she couldn't do it. Draco was still mentally holding on to her. Maybe because now they both knew what would happen afterwards… when the incantation carved in the dagger would finally manifest. She reached for his hand, and unwillingly, she felt tears touching her cheeks. Why was it that when she had finally known what was in that heart… it was already too late?

Without saying anything, Draco squeezed her hand and then leaned on her. He didn't want to let go. But what was done was done. And now, time was the one holding his destiny. "Goodbye," he whispered softly in her ear.

And then… she was gone.

__

~*~*~*~

have they hurt you that much / your tears have dried your sunken eyes / how have you become a lot bitter / has the life you're living slowly draining you / and you lie awake every night staring blankly at the ceiling -- "child"

So? Review please… Next chapter next week. 


	2. Piercing Screams of Memories

__

THAT WAS HER… THAT'S HER VOICE

like i share my voice to the wind / it hears me as i want it to / it listens to every syllable / reaching deeper into my thoughts / my darkest secrets -- the crave for the last of my days / pity for myself; pity for the shadow that has become of me -- "eleven"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER TWO: Piercing Screams of Memories**

Hermione awoke in a sudden. She felt as if she had been running for miles. All summer long, she always had that feeling that she had been somewhere else… somewhere she couldn't remember. And it had always felt that a huge portion of her memory had been erased – like a dream that she knew she had but couldn't quite recall.

She had been like this for a month now. Always that uneasy feeling that she had forgotten something. She had performed too many spells and drank many potions to help her recollect anything that she had forgotten. But she always ended up remembering only those little details that she had been putting aside – like owling a friend or cleaning her room.

She never told any one about this. Because she knew that there were more important matters to deal with than this certain unexplainable gap in her memory.

"What was I doing on the nineteenth of July?" she found herself asking one day when she felt that it was a justifiable excuse for a conversation.

Ron looked from the book he was scanning and up at her like she had lost her mind. "Are you sure you're all right, Hermione?"

"I'm just asking…" she said as she wrote profusely on the parchment lying in front of her.

Ron looked over to what she was doing but Hermione pulled the parchment back. "Are you starting a diary?"

"A journal, actually," Hermione replied after a reluctant pause.

"Well, there's no use in recalling everything you've done for the last month, is there? We've been here… reading all these books and Harry's…" his voice trailed and faded into a whisper. "Harry's been more than determined to find out where You-Know-Who is," he continued, glancing at Harry who had just finished talking with someone through the fireplace.

They were gathered in Number Four Privet Drive's kitchen table learning more magic than they had accumulated for the last six years in Hogwarts. It was like Dumbledore's Army all over again; only this time, it didn't involve simple incantations or defence spells… they were preparing for a real battle. The Dursleys – although paranoid to their minds – had consented to this daily assembly of Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, and other Hogwarts students in their home through the permission of Aunt Petunia, who up until now wouldn't say a word about her intentions of this matter.

"Another witch is reported missing," Harry said as he approached his friends. He appeared tired and it was understandable to all of them but Harry had not been eating much nor sleeping. He was fuelled by the thought of retribution he was seeking. "She's a Muggleborn. It's even on the Muggle news," he continued, clutching the back of the chair in front of him. Another Muggleborn witch was missing. This was the fifth in two months. The tension was getting more intense and Harry more agitated. His eyes dawned on Hermione as everyone else's in the room.

"I'm going to be fine," Hermione said when she felt that everybody wasn't just looking at her. She could see that they were worrying about her – especially Harry.

Harry let out an audible sign. He sat on the chair he had been leaning on and said to Hermione, "Maybe –"

"No way!" Hermione insisted even before Harry could finish his sentence. "I'm going to continue helping. Besides, I still think it's much safer here in your house than anywhere else –"

Everyone in the room sprung in surprise when a loud ringing echoed in the air.

"Really… I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to that," Ron said, clutching his chest.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just the phone, Ron," she said, as she stood up to get it. She picked up the receiver and was about to greet hello when a sudden pang hit her like a sharp object grazing through her inner arm. She dropped the phone. "Ah!"

* * * * *

The glass he was holding fell mercilessly to the floor and broke into jagged pieces. Draco's face creased in pain as he swallowed the sensation of a blade scraping through his skin. He pulled up his right sleeve expecting blood to be seeping right out of him. But no… there wasn't a trickle of blood. Just the shadows of four serrated lines, which seemed to be becoming more evident as each day passed.

It started with a forgettable dream. But unlike most that contentedly rested in the recesses of one's memories, Draco's dreams were soon as vivid as he was right there. And now, for the first time, he actually felt the sting of the blade against his skin like he was doing it on his own accord. Then, as if lightning flared blindingly in his eyes, he put his hands on his head as visions flashed in his mind.

_"What am I doing here?!"_

"I should ask you the same thing."

"You're bleeding."

"That'll heal."

"What have you done to yourself?"

"Stop!"

"What am I doing here?!"

"How did you Apparate in here?"

"You did something to me."

"Speak now!"

"If you can kill – you would've done so –"

"DO NOT!"

"…you would've done so when Voldemort asked you."

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT!"

"…when Voldemort asked you."

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT!"

"Were you expecting death, Malfoy?"

Draco dropped into a chair as the whirlwind of visions continued to haunt him.

_"What were you doing?"_

"Do you know why?!"

"…Trying to call upon redemption?"

"You bound yourself to me!"

"Were you expecting death, Malfoy?"

For a split second, Draco's mind cleared. But he tried to catch his head when the visions started again.

_"This is the Blade of Deliverance."_

"…Governed by a power far superior than any charm."

"Deliverance."

"This isn't magic, Draco."

"As far as this dagger is concerned…"

"I'm not even going to ask why it's in the possession of the most morally corrupt family I know…"

"…you are nothing."

"You obviously don't know how this works, do you?"

"…you are nothing but another soul seeking for salvation."

"Lost soul."

"This doesn't recognise magic."

"…seeking for salvation."

* * * * *

Draco fell breathlessly back in his chair. He recognised the room in his vision as the same room he was sitting in right then. But he could not get around on who was the person speaking to him. It was a woman. But he couldn't distinguish the face. Yet, the voice sounded so familiar to him. He tried to remember the voice. But all he could hear right then were the voices of people he wanted to forget.

His mother. This he wished would no longer haunt him. His mother cared for him up until she was captured into Azkaban by the Ministry. Although she was cruel to her enemies… she cared for him.

His father. There was never any affection shown between the two of them… but he respected his father. Everything he believed in was taught to him by his father.

However, now, in his solace, he started to question where his convictions were truly grounded. Did he actually believe everything what his family stood for? Or was he just blindly following what was dictated to him? Harsher than an unlawful decree… was this really the truth that lay in him?

He didn't know.

His faith had become so thin that he was hanging on to so little… The capture of his family into Azkaban had left him alone yet hunted. In the manor that he had called his home he hid for he no longer had anywhere else to go. This place used to feel safe like a fortress where nobody could as much as lay a finger on him. But now, it was betraying him like a bastion of treachery. This house was no longer secure. Anyone from the minions of the Dark Lord could Apparate inside and snatch him at any time. Or at the call of Voldemort… he should come to him. Because he was supposed to be one of them now – after he supposedly killed Dumbledore. He was supposed to be linked to them as if the same blood ran in their veins… but why did this cause him fear…? Wasn't this what he wanted? Wasn't this what he had been waiting? To be called upon by the Dark Lord himself and blemish his skin with the Dark Mark – the mark of Death Eaters.

He was deep in thought trying to remember where he had heard that voice from his vision. Yet the silence of his empty house was disturbed when a loud scream of terrible fright echoed around him – or maybe it was in his mind? He looked up and around expecting to find someone else standing in the room. _That was her…_ he thought. _That's her voice._

And yet… he was alone.

* * * * *

Harry turned his head towards Hermione just when the phone dropped with a loud clatter. "What's wrong?" he asked as he, Ron, and Ginny gathered around her.

"Nothing," Hermione replied, clutching her right arm. She couldn't understand if she could feel burning or cutting of her skin but she knew that she wasn't imagining pain. "I just…" she said through gritted teeth as she struggled to pull up her sleeve.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ginny asked in a worried tone as she watched Harry and Ron help Hermione with her shirt. Then, she remembered the phone and picked it up from the floor.

"What was it?" Harry asked again; seeing now that there was nothing wrong with Hermione's arm.

"I don't know."

"Aah…" Harry flinched, suddenly touching his forehead.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked him; his face contorted in worry. "First Hermione, and now you. Well, yours is scarier… I mean…"

Harry looked out the window, expecting a battalion of Death Eaters gathering around his house. His scar only hurt when Voldemort was near him. Fortunately, there was no one of those sorts outside.

"Mum, slow down," they all heard Ginny say as she spoke on the phone. She looked at Ron then at Harry. Then at Hermione.

"What's wrong now?" Ron muttered when Ginny's face remained with a shocked expression.

"It's the Death Eaters. Mum said they're moving," she said softly; her eyes on the floor.

Several shocked expressions resonated in the room followed by buzzing and whisperings among them. George stood up and grabbed the phone from Ginny, thinking that he had to hear it for himself.

"Moving? Where?" Harry demanded, looking at Ginny as if her face could provide him answers. "Voldemort must be with them. He must be," Harry started, his voice was rising. He paced out of the kitchen and into the living room wondering what to do. "We should go now."

"Harry, we can't be too hasty now," Hermione said, trying to calm him down.

Harry stopped and went back into the kitchens glaring at her. "Hermione… I have waited long enough. And that did nothing but kill the people I care about. We can't just stay here and bury ourselves in these books!" he yelled, shoving some of the books on the table onto the floor. He waited for a second but neither Hermione nor anyone else in the room spoke up.

Harry took the Floo Powder from inside a cupboard. He pulled out his wand and went back into the living room.

Hermione didn't protest for something else had caught her attention. One of the books that Harry scattered on the floor landed on her foot and opened at a page bearing a very familiar picture… She picked it up knowing that she had seen this before. It was a sword… or some sort of spear. "'The Spear of Reprieve,'" she whispered, reading the caption underneath the picture.

_The Spear of Reprieve is claimed to be the spear forged in the seas of the West seven hundred years ago by the spirits of the four elements summoned by a man who sought absolution for his crime-stained soul. Later, the spear has become known as the Blade of Deliverance because of its powers to purge even the most darkest of phantoms who beseech the grace of forgiveness._

According to its legend, the spear does not divide between Wizards or Muggles and so it is believed that its powers originated not from magic but by something paramount and more ancient than wizarding sorcery. In fact, many wizard scholars actually presume true that the spear was born in the hands of a Muggle and has passed through the possessions of influential leaders – both magical and non-magical – throughout the ages.

However, the actual authenticity of the spear's existence is still in question and many wizards and witches debate against the idea that an object with this type of power could have been made through a Muggle medium. Supporting their speculation is the want of strongly grounded accounts of the spear.

A number of wizards and witches have tried finding the evanescent blade; performing summoning spells and séances to call upon the object. But none of whom has ever come forward claiming that they have the Blade of Deliverance in their possession. Rumours surfaced telling the destruction of the spear in the 18th century but it is also said that the blade is now in the hands of a very wealthy wizarding family; yet there has been no definitive version of its whereabouts.

Although the blade is known to mend a person's spirit, there is no accounting for the process it takes to achieve this. Because there has always been a vague and almost inexistent evidence of the blade and its purpose, there is no single narration of the steps taken in order to purge one's quintessence. However, the most common theory states that the person's life force is elemental in the formula. This, as presumed, means that an immense amount of the person's own blood is to be proffered with the spear's aid; as an incantation, believed to be carved on the dagger itself, is recited.

Thus far, this is where the tale of the Spear of Reprieve stops. For this reason, the only other theory as strong as its non-existence is that which states that mortals who have sought the powers of the Blade retain no memory of what they have done or the events that ensued on their road to deliverance.

Hermione only pulled away from her trance when she was accidentally shoved by George, who was hurrying towards the living room. She followed him remembering that Harry was quickly becoming hysterical.

And as surely, Harry was standing in front of the fireplace, as he was about to remove the protection they had cast on it to prevent unwanted guests coming in through the Floo Network when George, phone still in his hand, interrupted him.

"All ports of transportation should remain closed."

Harry looked at him murderously. "What?!" But he didn't wait for an answer. "Then, we have to Disapparate," he said again. He raised his wand in the air this time so to remove the barrier they placed during meetings that nobody could Apparate or Disapparate unexpectedly.

"Harry, all ports for transportation should remain closed," George repeated. And when Harry looked at him like he was going to perform an Unforgivable – "Don't look at me. It's my mother. Well, it's the Death Eaters actually," he said, taking a step back. "They're guarding every mode of wizard transportation. They're likely in the Floo Network. And when you remove that shield… It's very likely that Death Eaters are just waiting for it. Er… Mum," he started speaking to Mrs Weasley on the other line. Lately, they had been talking through the telephone, which would be harder for magical folks to detect making it the safest way to communicate. "And how do you suppose we get out?" He paused for a couple of seconds and then, "We're not staying here!"

"Give me that," Fred grabbed the receiver from George and started, "Mum, we're not little tots anymore. As you may have noticed lately, everyone in the family's taller than you. Even Ginny! Now, we can't Disapparate, we can't use the Floo Network… do you expect us to Expecto Patronum our ways out of here…?"

* * * * *

Draco looked out the window trying to prove to himself that he wasn't going insane. He heard a woman scream. And that was all there was to it. But instead of a woman, he saw hooded shadows Apparating around the manor grounds as if materialising from black winds.

And knowing that they were being watched, they all looked up at the window. Every single one of them was masked but they knew that Draco could tell them apart one by one…

He was going to be one of them.

Death Eaters.

"My child…" An icy slithering voice suddenly spoke.

Draco turned around, startled. That was another voice he wished would never visit him again. He didn't know if he should kneel or bow down. He was frozen in his place as he clutched the window sill behind him tightly.

Lord Voldemort's face contorted into what could only be described as a smile as he looked at Draco with his livid scarlet eyes. "I see the House-elves are no good in keeping you well, Draco…" He paced towards Draco as his eyes looked around him as if memorising the place. "I assure you that your parents are going to be rightfully rewarded for their loyalty. Wouldn't it be just pleasing to greet them as a marked servant of the Dark Lord…?"

* * * * *

Harry raised his wand. He didn't care if the house was suddenly filled with Death Eaters once he lifted the protective spell. He would've been glad for he heed not find them this time around. All he needed was to have them where he was – face to face.

"Harry! Wait!" Hermione yelled again as she advanced towards him.

But Harry wasn't listening anymore. He became deaf to everything else. All he could hear now was the constant beating of his heart – bursting in anger. "Amoveo Defendo!"

And then there was silence.

Everyone looked around them anxiously – waiting for the Death Eaters to Apparate inside to try and kill them all. But then, in the midst of the deafening stillness, Hermione gasped quietly in her place and almost dropped her wand. That sensation of a sharp object grazing through her inner arm hit her again like hot melted wax dripping from unseen sources. But this time, she tried to ignore it knowing that there were more dangers lurking than imaginary blades cutting her.

Suddenly, the already grey skies became much darker as blankets of clouds whirled overhead. It seemed that the early evening instantly became the witching hours of the night. All of them looked outside Number Four expecting Death Eaters at any moment. The wind was becoming stronger that the neighbours went back inside their houses and closed all windows and doors. But instead of masked, hooded figures materialising in the streets…

Familiar faces appeared one by one almost looking like a legion of Apparating wizards and witches.

Harry recognised them. He recognised them all. The Order of the Phoenix. And all he could feel right then was disappointment. He was expecting the enemy. Not this. He marched outside the house and confronted the first person he could reach. "Where are they? Where's the Death Eaters?"

"We need to get inside," Remus Lupin, the man standing closest to Harry, replied.

"Get inside?!" Harry screamed angrily. "All of you just Apparated in the open and now you want to get inside? Where are they?"

"They disappeared, Harry…" Tonks, the woman standing just behind Remus, spoke up, as she slowly approached Harry.

"What do you mean they disappeared? They can't disappea—!"

"We can't locate them. They have entered an Unplottable area," Tonks replied.

__

~*~*~*~

tonight when dreams don't even allow me to dream / when all i have is the haunting of the grim / the sweetest lullabies that carried me to my years / are now fading rhymes that dragged me here… -- "farewell me"


	3. Chronicles of Forgotten

__

IF YOU WISH TO KILL YOURSELF, THEN YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO DO IT WITHOUT ME

when did you stop from crying / why did you stop on feeling / when did you cease on living / why do you feel like dying -- "child"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER THREE: Chronicles of Forgotten**

A giant aged fabric covered the entirety of one of the walls of the room. The Order of the Phoenix that Apparated half an hour ago in Privet Drive were all back in their new headquarters after hauling with them the reluctant youngsters who were gathered in Number Four. Hermione surveyed the fabric as she watched little dots scampering around the surface. The material was a map. It was like a gigantic version of the Marauders Map that Harry had shown her a few years back. But instead of Hogwarts, this map showed the entire United Kingdom – every alley, every building, every house, every floor, every room – except for blank spaces here and there which explained how the Death Eaters disappeared. A high probability was that they entered one of those blank spaces – the Unplottable areas.

"Why are there Unplottable areas?" she found herself asking no one in particular.

"Those areas are heavily guarded by the minions of Voldemort," replied the tall, bald black wizard in a deep slow voice, Kingsley Shacklebolt, standing beside Hermione. "We cannot survey the area enough to be able to put them on the map."

"If you know where the Death Eaters are concentrated, why are there still legions of them walking around free?" an impatient voice resonated in the air. Hermione and Kingsley turned around to see Harry, breathing heavily as if trying to hold himself from doing something severely stupid.

Hermione was about to say something when another person cleared his throat. It was Remus. "We cannot just attack blindly without studying them first, Harry," he said, nearing Harry, who by now was staring viciously at the map.

"I still don't understand it," Harry muttered under his breath; determined to not accept Remus' explanation.

On the other hand, Hermione was, herself, busy studying the map very closely as if looking for something. "What?" she said.

"What?" Harry looked at her curiously.

"Nothing I just thought…" she dismissed whatever it was and continued surveying the map closely.

"Granger."

"What?" Hermione answered again. This time, she looked at Remus knowing for sure that the voice came from that direction.

But Remus, like Harry, looked at her curiously and said, "What is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing."

"Hermione."

She looked at Kingsley, who, by now, was already watching her carefully. She shook her head again even before Kingsley could ask her what was going on. _It was nothing. Just your imagination,_ she thought, going back to the map. Perhaps with the voices in her head, she became disoriented so forced herself to concentrate on any point on the map – but ended up undecided on which point exactly. By then, her nose was only a few inches from the fabric when she noticed that several dots had started disappearing instantly one after another.

"Granger."

"They're disappearing," Hermione said, in a great effort to ignore the voice that kept calling her name; she almost sounded breathless like she was going to faint. "Are those Death Eaters?"

"Where?" Harry was first to go where she was standing; followed by Remus and Kingsley.

"Hermione."

"Granger!"

Hermione flinched and covered her ears. _Stop it._

"Granger!"

_Stop it._

"No," Kingsley replied to Hermione's question. "Those are members of the Order. They're not supposed to just leave their posts like that."

"They're going off the map," Harry said, putting his finger on one after another vanished dot. "Where are they going?"

"They're being summoned," Remus concluded; his eyebrows furrowed.

"Summoned?" Harry called out to Remus and Kingsley who were about to go out the room so to alert the others.

"They're being forcibly called into another place," Remus replied. "And because they're disappearing from the map –"

"It just makes sense that they're being summoned into Unplottable areas… by Voldemort," Harry concluded, taking a step forward towards the two Order members.

Remus raised a hand to stop Harry. "Harry, you –"

"I'm not staying here!"

"HERMIONE GRANGER!"

"What?!" A strong sudden silence hung in the air and Hermione realised what she had just done. She looked up and found the _only_ other people in the room staring at her in surprise. Then, in an imminent event once she acknowledged the voices… flashes of events soared in her mind like daggers piercing their way through her consciousness. 

_A weeping figure lying on the ground. Curled up like a baby in a mother's womb. "Make it stop… make it stop…" he muttered over and over again – his hands on his face in surrender to his forsakenness._

Hermione watched him and felt his agony; but amidst the sympathy she was feeling, she said, "You can't just make it stop. Guilt doesn't go away with magic. Your conscience doesn't rest even if you've forgotten what you've done. Because it's part of who you are."

He fell quiet for a moment and knelt in front of Hermione, clutching her arms with both his hands. "Why? Maybe you're the answer. Maybe that's why you're here. You'll end it for me," he said as his fingers travelled to where Hermione was clutching a dagger in her hand. "Kill me. End it for me."

"What?!" she exclaimed, as she untangled herself from him; and stood up. "That's not how it's supposed to be and you know it."

The weeping figure then stood up. This probably was not a very good idea for Hermione because he towered her like an ominous statue. "And you claim you know what's supposed to happen, Granger?" he said, a sudden shift of mood reflected in his voice.

"No one's going to die tonight, Malfoy."

"Draco?" Hermione's eyes opened in surprise; oblivious to everything else around her. Draco? Was it really Draco?

"What?" a voice interrupted the re-founded silence of her mind. She looked around and saw Harry. And Kingsley, and Remus, and half of the people in the headquarters – all looking at her lying on the floor.

"Malfoy?" Ron's voice echoed within the room. "Why are you suddenly calling out Malfoy's name?"

Harry cleared his throat and put a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder. "Take it easy," he said, knowing that Ron wasn't very happy that the first name Hermione called out after coming out of a trance was… Draco. "She's in shock."

But Ron escaped from Harry and quickly flashed his middle and index fingers across Hermione's eyes. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hermione groaned and waved Ron's hand away. "Ron!"

"You're not in shock!"

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled Ron away. "Ron, c'mon."

"I think it's best that the kids go back to their homes." It was now Remus who was speaking.

"No," Hermione protested at once, as she struggled to get up from the floor. "You can't send us all back. You need more people. Now that Voldemort has been summoning your members."

"Ms Granger," a commanding voice so familiar spoke up just when Hermione finally got on her feet and met eye to eye with – Professor McGonagall. "We can't send you all there untrained. You realise that those that have been taken by Voldemort just a while ago are highly skilled Aurors themselves and yet they're still in danger, aren't they?"

"But –"

"We're sending you all home," Remus interrupted with a tone of finality. "You must realise that there are people waiting for you? Family?" Hermione opened her mouth to say something but realised in the end that Remus was right. Her mother and father were probably waiting for her. "And you would want to be there, Hermione. Especially at times like these."

"But I'm staying," Harry said from behind Remus. "No one's waiting for me at Privet Drive, as you know. And they're safer without me there."

Remus watched Harry for a while – contemplating on this decision. Then, he looked past Harry towards McGonagall, whose opinion he respected.

"Fine. You can stay," McGonagall answered. "And so are the Weasleys since both their parents are here. But everyone else is to go back home."

* * * * *

_Draco sneered. "This is so typical of you. Always the righteous one. Hasn't it gotten you in enough trouble, Granger?"_

"Hermione?"

_Hermione glared at him venomously. "I'm not a murderer, Malfoy. If you wish to kill yourself, then you're going to have to do it without me," she said, waving the dagger in her hand. She watched him closely, trying to decipher his next move. She had learned it now; he was starting to seem unstable – one minute weeping, the other minute acting like it never happened. In entirety, however, she knew he was desperate._

"Granger?"

_And when Draco seemed to calm down, Hermione felt her breathing going steady. She put her dagger-waving hand down, not realising until then that she had it raised. Then in a low voice, she muttered, "Why do you want to be saved, Malfoy?"_

"Hermione."

_She looked in his eyes, as if they would tell her something more than cold-hearted emotions. "It's not like you killed people – have you?!" she demanded with wide eyes when Draco remained silent and hesitant yet blank at the same time._

But Draco only remained staring at her blankly before he turned away and made his way towards the door. "It's of no concern to you," he said before he closed the door behind him.

"Granger."

_And just like before, a wind swirled and Hermione materialised in front of him. She was ready this time, for she didn't reappear looking perplexed around her. She found Draco scowling, apparently disappointed that he couldn't escape her still. It was Hermione's turn to sneer. "And I thought, though being an insufferable jerk, that you're a fast learner, Malfoy," she said. Yet Draco ignored her and proceeded leaving the room._

"Hermione Granger!" Draco muttered in surprise as he found himself sitting on the floor. There it was. The visions. It all became so clear. And then he knew where he heard that voice before.

He gasped in surprise realising that Voldemort was patiently standing across the room – watching him, studying him – with a curious smile on that snake-like face. Draco paused and for a while he couldn't move. Then, suddenly remembering, he tried to close his mind in an instant to block out any trespassers into his consciousness. Yet, he felt that it could be too late for he remained unguarded during those visions…

"Granger!" Voldemort blurted. And with a laugh, he spoke, "Why do you preoccupy yourself so much with your favourite Mudblood, Draco?" as he paced around nearing Malfoy. He surveyed Draco who only reciprocated him with a strongly guarded confused look. With this, he bent on his knees to examine the young man more closely. "You were muttering her name as you moaned in pain. They're trying to get to you, Draco?"

Draco looked away from Voldemort's eyes. "N-no," he struggled and proceeded to pick himself up from the floor. "No. They're not. No one's trying to get to me." He looked and examined Voldemort to see if he sounded believable enough but no one could decipher that expression correctly.

Voldemort stood up quietly, seemingly satisfied with Draco's response. Yet, he was Voldemort. And Draco had read him wrong. "HERMIONE GRANGER!" he shouted out to the windows as if giving out orders to his waiting Death Eaters. Then, he turned back to Draco and, in an almost inaudible hiss, said, "Dumbledore was difficult but you've proven yourself of worth. A filthy little Mudblood girl will hold no challenge."

* * * * *

"Why won't you just tell me what happened?"

"Because there's nothing to tell."

"Yeah? Well you looked like you were having a nightmare. And you weren't even asleep. Harry told me."

"Ron," Hermione turned about and sighed in exasperation.

"And what's Malfoy got to do with it?"

"Ron."

"He's an enemy, Hermione. I just hope you don't forget that –"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed once and for all. "I know Malfoy's an enemy. I know that."

"But –"

"Ron," a voice came up from behind them. It was Remus. "I think stress just got to Hermione more than you," he said calmly, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. Then, he turned back to Hermione and said, "Time to go home. C'mon," as he guided her towards the door where the other Aurors were also getting ready to escort the others who were to go back to their houses.

"W-why can't she just stay?" Ron called out as Hermione and Remus were about to step out. "I mean, we can Apparate her parents out here instead…"

Hermione smiled and chuckled. "Ron… I'll be back tomorrow," she said reassuringly before finally stepping out into the street.

Both Remus and Hermione walked quietly into the streets where Remus could safely guide Hermione in Disapparating. Perhaps it was because he had been good in surrounding himself with such mystery that he knew she was thinking of something other than the current dangers in the wizarding world. "If it doesn't hurt anyone… maybe it's for the best that no one knows."

Hermione slowed down and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I happen to have kept a secret so notorious for many years… I recognise that something's bothering you."

"It's nothing," Hermione replied quickly, shaking her head. "I'm just…" she breathed in and looked into the distance where the others were Disapparating back to their homes "…worried."

"Well, here's the spot," Remus said as they reached a good distance from the headquarters. He briefly examined the surroundings to make sure that no Muggle or unwelcomed wizards were watching; and then turned back to Hermione. "You can Disapparate here. Don't worry, we'll be taking closer looks at the map," he smiled reassuringly at Hermione before she Disapparated from view without another word.

* * * * *

Hermione Apparated just outside the door of her house still perturbed with the vision she suddenly had during her stay in the headquarters. Was this the dream she had forgotten? Was it only a dream? Why did it feel so real? Why… Malfoy? She touched her head as if everything she had seen that night would come rushing back to her as clear as if the scenes played in front of her eyes. Her mind was so deep into thinking; she didn't even realise that she was standing in the hallway just inside the door.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied as quickly as she pulled herself out of her trance. It was her mother coming out from the kitchens.

"Are you all right?" Mrs Granger walked towards her daughter who seemed to be glued on the spot near the door. "You're so pale," she said, feeling Hermione's head for any sign of illness.

"I'm… fine, Mum. Where's Dad?"

"He's in his office finishing some paperwork – Are you sure you're all right? Did something happen? Has that Voldy person been caught yet?"

Hermione smiled in spite of it. But shook her head no. "Not yet. But we're working on it – Mum? What's wrong?" she asked when her mother suddenly fell silent and remained looking at her with a worried face.

Mrs Granger breathed deeply, shrugged, and dropped her arms to her sides.

"Mum…" Hermione groaned mildly. Apparently, this gesture was already familiar to her as if they had talked about it for several times. "You know how much this means to me –"

"But Hermione, honey, we worry about you every time you're not home. I busy myself in the kitchens just to keep myself from going out of my head waiting for you to come home. Your Dad's always in his office doing paperwork and God knows he doesn't have that much paperwork –" she paused and looked at her daughter with pleading eyes. "If we just get out of here… leave…"

"It won't solve anything," Hermione interrupted. Yet her tone was so calm that it sounded as if running away was another option very welcome to her. "I worry about you, too. You and Dad. But it won't stop just because we leave them behind. I can't leave them behind. _We_ can't leave them."

* * * * *

"W-what do you mean?" Draco's voice stuttered as if in the far distance. His throat went dry as Voldemort smiled cruelly from behind his snake-like face.

But Voldemort did not say anything and continued walking around the room – as if sauntering within an extremely fascinating venue. He breathed in that almost sounded like a hiss coming from somewhere else. And then, at last, spoke. "You know what I speak of, Draco…" He looked at Draco and immersed himself in excitement as he saw a trace of terror in those grey eyes.

"K-kill? You want me to kill –?"

"Oh, 'kill' is such a word so often used," Voldemort interrupted with a vile air of enthusiasm in his voice, "it has lost its touch on me," he continued talking in perverted humour. "I want to see the lights leave her eyes, Draco. I want to see you have fun…" he looked straight at Draco that Draco couldn't take his eyes off him. "I want to see you consume… devour…" he breathed in again with eyes closed as if inhaling a glorious aroma. And slowly, calmly, faintly whispered, "…death surfacing… rising… from her."

He paused.

And then he laughed.

In pleasure.

And excitement.

Draco looked at Voldemort. It wasn't human. He didn't know what to do. If he ran, they would hunt him and kill him… and it would be them who would be devouring death coming out of him. He felt sick. An involuntary cold chill ran through his spine as Voldemort turned his attention back on him. The Dark Lord was coming closer but he couldn't see him clearly any more. Everything was starting to blur. And a ghastly shed of pain seared his arm like his skin was being torn apart. He forced his mind to remain blank. He couldn't be having visions right now. It would make him vulnerable. _No. No!_

_"I'm supposed to be your guide, Malfoy," Hermione said. "Well… sort of." She looked at Draco, who was now staring ominously straight through landforms in the horizon._

Draco was leaning on the trunk of a tree looking over the cliff just outside the manor, trying to appear that he was ignoring her. Yet, he listened as she spoke. "And what are you supposed to be? The ghost of my future?" he said with a smirk before turning back to the horizon.

"No. But I'm supposed to tell you what these all mean."

"This all means that I made a mistake. Because you're not supposed to be here. Give me the dagger." He held out a hand for Hermione to place the dagger. "No one's asking you to be my hero. Why don't you go back to your Halfblood friends and blood traitor allegiances? Rid me of you."

Hermione looked up at him; his hair was dancing softly with the wind… and his skin was just as pale even with the colour of the setting sun… yet, his stance and his eyes were piercing through her like blades of ice. She held up her left hand and opened her palm slowly were the dagger lay before the two of them. And just when Draco stirred to grab it, the dagger disappeared as if it dissolved into thin air.

A surprised expression flashed ever so briefly across Draco's face. He tried to hide it but Hermione caught it just as she herself was stunned with just what happened. "Where did it go? What did you do with it?" he demanded, though inside him, he felt that no one of them knew what happened.

Hermione looked up at him with a worried expression. "It's starting."

"Where is it? WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S STARTING? WHERE IS IT?!" Draco took her shoulders and shook her, not noticing that he was pushing her back towards the cliff.

"It will reappear in time when you're ready to save yourself by saving me!"

"You're lying! You're a Mudblood! Why would I have anything to do with you –?" He stopped when he suddenly fell on his knees as he heard Hermione's frightened screams quickly fading into the distance. "No."

She was falling.

He pushed her off the cliff.

But then, as had happened before, there could only be as much distance between the two of them. Hermione reappeared – angry and perhaps, though she knew that she was dealing with someone with dubious loyalty, still feeling betrayed. "You!" she yelled in genuine fury; hurrying towards Malfoy who was lying on the same ground where he pushed her off the cliff. She pulled her wand from her robes and pointed at him with shaking hands. "You bastard!"

Yet Draco, upon hearing Hermione's raging screams, lay still as he waited for her. And now even as she looked at him with cold cold resentment, he smiled and muttered, "Granger," as if greeting a friend.

Hermione glowered at him as she kept her wand aloft. "Get up, Malfoy. Get up! I'm finished trying to get through to you, you chauvinistic Pureblood!"

__

~*~*~*~

i wake up and there you are… breaking the last strands of weakness i have for my strength -- "angst"


	4. The Beckoning

__

SOME OF US ARE NOT GIFTED WITH CHOICES

death doesn't ask to happen / it just comes uninvited -- "psycho-logy"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER FOUR: The Beckoning**

_"What do you mean we're not going to remember any of these? And who appointed you to know all these things you kept saying, Granger?" Draco uttered in arrogance the moment Hermione breathed out the last syllable out her mouth. He sat on the armchair where she had magically bound him – after all, he didn't have any defences with him since she still had his wand in hostage._

"It's just… I know, alright? This is really happening… you and I… but afterwards, memories are going to be altered as if nothing happened. Until… until it's time." Draco grunted his disbelief. "Look, Malfoy," Hermione said impatiently, as she sat on the low table in front of Draco. "Everything's all beyond me. And as God is my witness I don't know how I have gained knowledge of all these. I just know."

"Fine," Draco muttered, turning away from her. "Get it over with then, Mudblood, so you can leave."

Hermione tilted her head. Somehow, his insults didn't feel so foul any more. "Really? You want me to go?"

"Haven't I said that a hundred times before?"

"If you wish." Hermione stood and started. "The Blade of Deliverance is supposed to give you that – deliverance," she paused and turned to look at Draco, "or salvation. Of your soul, Malfoy. Yet as pathetically obnoxious _as you may be, I still don't think you're that vile to be asking destiny to redirect your fate. Not if all you did was show prejudice. You're not a murderer."_

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "And how sure are you that I didn't kill anybody?"

"Because you're not dead!" Hermione declared. She knelt beside him and tried to meet his eyes. "Maybe you did make a mistake, Malfoy. The first…" her voice trailed as if she was remembering something. "The first man… who did this put it through his heart and died. He killed a whole family –"

"Malfoys! He killed the Malfoys… he killed my ancestors and had the audacity in him to curse us with the same fate as him. I know the story, Granger. A Muggle," he said, sniggering. "A filthy Muggle rat cursing the Malfoys… its hilarity hasn't died, apparently." He paused as if waiting for Hermione to react the same way he did and then added insolently, "After all, he put it through his heart, Granger. Of course he'd die. It's pathetically stupid _if you ask me."_

"The same fate?" Hermione ignored Draco's last remark. "You mean ask for mercy? Like what you're doing now, huh?" Draco stopped and looked at her. "Tell me, Draco," she breathed slowly. "How is it that you found the dagger when it has been lost for centuries?"

Draco hesitated. Perhaps, if he stayed quiet long enough, she'd leave him alone with it. But it didn't work. She was staring straight at him as if she was trying to read his mind. "It hasn't been lost, Granger. It's always been told within the family that the sword was buried in the manor dungeons –"

"Sword?"

"And I thought you knew everything –"

"I know how it works. Not where it came from."

Draco sneered. "And so maybe destiny wanted us to fill each other in, then? Now, if you could just wave your wand and unbind me from this chair –" his voice trailed when he found Hermione's wand pointing at him again.

"No," she said. "I think I rather not know, Malfoy. Now if you'll just listen to me."

Hermione started awake. It might have been because of the dream but perhaps it was the noise coming from outside her room that stirred her into consciousness. The noise was intensified by a scream of fright that she immediately stood from her bed calling out, "Mum! Dad!" She grabbed her wand from her bedside table and ran out the door – only to be paralysed by the sight of four dark figures downstairs. Two of them were holding her unconscious parents each.

As the Death Eaters put silence on the Grangers, the same stillness hung over the whole house. They turned towards the stairs and there standing unmoving at the top was the girl.

Hermione breathed out, realising that she had been holding it in all that time. It was when one of the Death Eaters started climbing the stairs that she broke out of her trance. And in less than a second, she pulled up her wand and pointed it straight at him.

Yet, the Death Eater only laughed as Hermione cried out spells that only bounced off him with the use of a Shielding Charm.

Hermione stopped but didn't put down her wand. She was still breathing rapidly and the presence of the Death Eaters in her house was sending frozen shivers down her spine; but she was trying desperately hard to think straight. She had always thought facing them would be inevitable yet she didn't realise that she had to do it on her own without any one else around to help her. "H-how did you get in here? W-what d-do you want with us?" she demanded; her hand shaking as she tried to keep it hoisted up.

But the Death Eater remained taciturn as he steadily advanced towards her, wand aloft – watching her and expecting her to attack.

Hermione stepped back when the Death Eater reached the upper landing. Now she could see him looming high on her like a black phantom of pure evil. She closed her eyes. Maybe she was dreaming still. Because this would rather be a nightmare than be real. She would rather spend the day with Draco Malfoy than spend minutes with the Death Eaters. At least Draco wasn't a killer. He was a hater. _But he's not a murderer…_

This couldn't be happening.

"You should come quietly, little Missy…" the Death Eater finally spoke in an eerie voice of vast, wintry void.

"Give me one good reas—SECTUMSEMPRA!"

This time, the Death Eater was only as fast with his Shielding Charm as a cut started bleeding across his left cheek. He looked grimly at Hermione and angrily pressed forward towards her, shouting, "Why you insolent little – Crucio!"

But Hermione's charm to shield herself was not enough to protect her. For the Cruciatus Curse was violently strong and the Death Eater had no intention but to torture. Hermione writhed in pain as the Death Eater watched her with much enjoyment. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction and so forced herself to not scream nor grunt. But she fell to her knees and to the floor with an expression of agony; it was enough to show the excruciating throb of every nerve in her body. She looked at him – knowing that he was just waiting for her to plead to stop the curse.

And although Hermione had thought her body was already getting numb from the pain, she finally let out a wail of unimaginable anguish that sent the Death Eater laughing to his black heart's content.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind him. "Stop it," another cloaked figure said, gesturing his hand for the other Death Eater to lower his wand.

Hermione breathed in through gritted teeth when the curse was finally lifted as she murderously glared at her enemies. She instinctively shifted her attention on the second Death Eater; wondering why he was saving her… when all she knew was that they were there to finish her off. But then, the second Death Eater only sneered at her, slowly picking up the wand that she had dropped during the Cruciatus Curse and muttered, "The Dark Lord wants her alive." Then, pointing Hermione's own wand at her, he said, "Stand up, Muggle."

With a great deal of struggle, Hermione stood up without taking her eyes off her attackers. She was defenceless to magic now… especially that she was present with two of the most vicious wizards ever known in dark sorcery.

From a distance, she heard cracking noises, which told her only two things… either there were more Death Eaters Apparating in her house; or some of them had left. Hermione remembered the other two Death Eaters who were holding her parents hostage. And from then she realised – "Whuh – Where did you take them?" she demanded; sounding surprised and worried but still with much force of distaste in her voice. However, it seemed to have not any effect on the Death Eaters at all.

The second Death Eater, still pointing Hermione's own wand at her, spoke, "You will come with us if you ever want to see them alive again," with a trace of delight. "But then again, you might not in any way –"

"Impedimenta!" The first Death eater yelled when Hermione lunged forwards to try and seize back her wand. She was blasted off her back and landed across the floor.

But this wouldn't stop her. This couldn't stop her. They had her parents and she was starting to feel that it was her fault. If only she listened to them. If only she had done what her mother had asked her to do. Maybe… maybe they would've been far away by now. Maybe she and her family would not be worrying about Voldemort or the Death Eaters… but…

At the very instance that she felt the floor beneath her back, she stood up, unrelenting to them. Her whole body was still aching but adrenalin was soaring in her system. She couldn't let the Death Eaters win. Not without a fight – magic or no magic. But as she strained to get back on her feet, she heard the Death Eater scream out another spell.

"Stupefy!"

Amidst all confusion that the commotion had given her… she realised that she wasn't hit. Someone had grabbed her aside just in time instantly after hearing another cracking noise exceedingly close to where she fell. "Get off me!" she shouted, struggling to get free, thinking that it was another Death Eater. But within that very second, everything went black and she felt that she was being tugged in every direction possible.

And then… a moonlit sky flashed before her eyes.

She was let go and finally realised that she was Apparated Side-Along with… Remus Lupin. She looked up and saw a number of members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around her and Remus. She didn't know if she wanted to faint, to throw up, or to break down right then and there; but her eyes fell on Harry and with a faint sound of cry in her voice, she said, "They got Mum and Dad! We've got to find them!"

"Where?" asked Harry, stepping forwards.

"We have to come inside first, please," Mrs Weasley's voice interrupted, pleading that it wasn't safe to be congregating outside the protected grounds of the Order's headquarters discussing Death Eater abductions.

Hermione stopped, ignoring Mrs Weasley.

And immediately, she went cold.

She looked up at Harry and with a desperate gaze in her eyes, whispered, "I… I don't know…" before she fell onto the ground… into her own oblivion.

* * * * *

_"I'm going to be a Death Eater, Hermione."_

"So you're bound to kill people, is that it? For what cause, then, Malfoy?"

"Some of us are not gifted with choices."

"It's me," she said with finality. She looked at him trying to decipher if he realised what she had just uttered. "You're going to have to kill me, aren't you? I'm the Muggleborn you'll have to murder, am I not? You don't have to die to save your soul, Draco. Has it not occurred to you that it's not too late?"

"Do you think I wanted this?" Draco raised his voice and stood up. A second of surprise rushed through him. He didn't realise that Hermione had already lifted the binding spell before that.

"Why? Because suddenly, you think that Muggles and Muggleborns are just like you? Human?"

Draco stared at her firmly as if she was the one who was holding him up. And in a murmur… an almost inaudible whisper… he spoke softly. "Because I should believe that you don't deserve to live. But it doesn't make sense, does it? Yet, still I will have to kill you… That's why I'm tainted… And I will be destroyed in the end because I know I wouldn't be able t—" he swallowed, feeling his throat tightening "to end another person's life."

It was like a light of unexplainable knowledge dawned on Hermione. She knew it now. It wasn't a dream. It was all real. It had to be. Because it was the only explanation that would give all these much sense. It was how the Death Eaters were able to enter her house. They were connected to her as she was with Draco. Because it was real. She stood up from the sofa where she lay; quickly realising that she was inside the headquarters.

"Lie back down, dear."

She turned to where the voice came from and found Mrs Weasley carrying a glass of pumpkin juice and sandwiches on a tray. However, "I have to go," she said, running out of the room.

"But… Hermione!" Mrs Weasley protested, running after her. "You shouldn't. They're taking care of it. They're –" she paused, seeing Hermione standing outside the headquarters… _just standing._ As if waiting for something to happen.

"Wha-What's going on here?" Another member of the Order appeared behind Mrs Weasley and then followed her line of sight. "Ms Granger!"

"I'm here!" Hermione shouted as if to the sky. "You can freely summon me now! What's wrong! Have you suddenly _shrivelled_ into a coward!"

Mrs Weasley and the other Order member almost jumped forwards to reach Hermione. "What? What are you talking about, Hermione? Summon? You can't – What – Let's get back inside –!"

But they weren't quick enough.

Hermione had Disapparated.

Or so it seemed…

__

~*~*~*~

i have shivered in a corner and cried the seven seas / wept of water… of tears… of blood… of sands and stones / and anger shouted out from the deepest core of my soul -- "one day in june"

So, how're you liking it so far? It would be nice to hear from you… how 'bout a review, eh?


	5. In the Bitter Claws of Fate

__

BUT ARE YOU PREPARED TO DIE, DRACO?

Hi there! So… at last… my favourite part of the story. I hope you'll enjoy it,too… Oh, and don't be shy… leave a review!

lately i'm constantly seeing you in my dreams / seemed like a vision that you're saying goodbye / you were holding me tightly like you wouldn't ever want to let go / when i woke up, the next thing i saw was you breaking my heart -- "regrets"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER FIVE: In the Bitter Claws of Fate**

Laughing.

Laughing of intense delight ensued all throughout the grounds.

Hermione couldn't see the Order's headquarters any more. She was transported somewhere else – summoned, like the other Order members. And with passionate hate came the force of extreme fear building up inside her. She hadn't heard that laugh before but she knew – something so cruel, so evil… there couldn't be no mistaking it. Her vision slowly cleared and as it adjusted to the dark night. She began recognising figures – hooded people around her – Death Eaters everywhere. Her heart started beating its way out of her chest. She was surrounded. Defenceless. And without a doubt, in the presence of the vilest wizard ever to have existed.

And as if the insanity she was facing now wasn't enough, a voice spoke – hissing at the same time. "Give your guest a proper welcome, Draco." It was the Dark Lord himself coming into the moonlight where his snake-like face was silhouetted. And so, behind him came Draco out of the shadows – wand grasped in his right hand.

Draco took this as a signal and moved towards Hermione with laboured steps as if his every single stride was deeply thought of… like hunting. Though, he didn't seem like he was sneaking on a prey; he approached her only carefully – every move of his body deliberate. He knew that several paces behind was Voldemort watching him; savouring every second of this fateful night. Yet he didn't take his eyes off Hermione. And she didn't turn away either as if challenging him to make his move if he dared to.

But Draco was only halfway towards her when she stepped back in a gasp as suddenly, Voldemort disappeared from behind Draco and reappeared just beside her that she could feel his hissing breath as he spoke… like a devil whispering in her ear. "Why are you so frightened, Little Muggle?"

Hermione turned her eyes away, avoiding to look at his snake-like features. She felt bound even though no magic had been cast on her. And screaming from inside her head, "Where are my parents?" burst out of her mouth, shouting at no one. "Where did you take them?" she yelled louder, her voice choking dry.

"There was no use for them here," Voldemort snapped, strutting impatiently around and then casually said, as it didn't matter at all to him, "so they're disposed off –" waving a hand.

"What?!" Hermione's voice was glaringly traced with shock and complete distaste. Her knees suddenly started to betray her when Voldemort laughed like a little kid, who then said, "You're so gullible."

Yet, Hermione began to weep and focused on Draco instead. "Where are they?" she said; her voice almost pleading.

Draco took a second to glance at Voldemort and then back at Hermione. His face was as indifferent as though he walked through the halls of Hogwarts. And finally, "They're not here," he said. Taking this, Hermione didn't know whether to shout or cry… _Where are they? Where are they?_ kept the desperate voice in her head.

"Now, Draco." Voldemort stepped back from Hermione to make way for Draco. It was a signal. Draco now knew what he should do.

It was now.

It was the time to make himself worth of the Dark Lord.

"Perhaps…" yet another voice interrupted. Hermione saw the shadow that stirred in the background. His face was masked like the others but she knew that voice – the voice of a betrayer. "…it would be even more fulfilling if the Mudblood… is handed her wand."

"No."

It wasn't Voldemort – who so liked it if Hermione would drop dead right then. It was Draco who spoke the word so suddenly.

And this pleased the Dark Lord who turned to Draco and smiled in agreement. "A Muggle… does not do magic. But to be fair," he paused, sniggering like a little demon child. "Draco… why don't you say a proper farewell?" he said before laughing out loud ending with, "Now, don't keep me waiting long."

Draco nodded and Voldemort stepped back to watch. He then continued to walk towards Hermione. She had her eyes closed now but he stared straight at her, nevertheless. It felt to him as though she was the one carrying him to walk; because he very well couldn't feel that he was in control of his feet any longer. He stopped only as a few inches of space were in between them. He remained his gaze, almost unblinking as if he was trying to reach into her mind. And then without warning, even if for a few seconds, they saw the same scene play in their heads.

_"But are you prepared to die, Draco?"_

His face fell at once as if she just asked him to incinerate himself to ashes. And as the silence hung between them, he stirred and looked at her straight in the eyes, and said slowly, "Who prepares to die, Granger?"

And she remained unspeaking.

For a fraction of a second, Hermione felt her whole system shut down. She opened her eyes and found herself looking straight into Draco's eyes. Her expression suddenly changed into questioning and pleading. It was clear to her now what he was going to do. She shook her head and pleaded, "No…" Yet, he stood unmoved seemingly cold and apathetic.

Draco only broke his gaze as he turned his eyes towards Voldemort and at the Death Eaters. And then… back at her. He leaned over Hermione and she felt his breath rushing across her ear then fading into the night; and for a still moment that seemed to have lasted longer than it did, he showed them what they wanted to see… a kiss on the cheek from one's enemy – a toast to her demise. And as if her skin was made of acid, he pulled away, turned around, and then walked away, gripping his wand tighter in his hand like he was getting ready. Ten paces after, he spun around again and faced Hermione – wand pointing straight to her heart.

"No!" Hermione yelled in agony. "Draco, this doesn't have to happen," she said. She blocked out everything else. She forgot she was being surrounded by the Death Eaters… forgot that Voldemort was there, too. She just stared straight at him as if the world had shrunk into the two of them.

Nonetheless, Voldemort found this amusing and laughed, turning to his Death Eaters. "Oh! And she begs!"

Hermione watched as Draco glanced towards Voldemort's way and at the masked Death Eater stirring in the shadows – who stepped forwards, uneasy, and gazing at him meaningly. But Draco ignored the Death Eater as if saying to let him do what he was supposed to do.

"Draco," Voldemort called and then in an evil teasing tone said, "we're waiting."

Draco's heart was pumping like it was trying to come out of his chest. He was going to do it. The killing curse. He was supposed to. It was the only way. And thus, surrendering both their chances into the hands of this ill-fated destiny, he closed his eyes and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

"Hermione!"

A voice yelled from behind Draco just when a jet of green light shot from the end of Draco's wand and hit Hermione square in the chest. It was when she was blasted into the air and fell slowly backwards – away from him, the Death Eaters… and Voldemort – that Draco and everyone else looked around to see…

Remus, Tonks, and other members of the Order of the Phoenix – a fair few number of them with Harry, who shouted Hermione's name, together with the other Weasleys including Ginny and – Draco saw the glaring hate in his eyes – Ron. They all stood stunned shocked watching Draco kill Hermione. They were too late.

The rage in Harry overpowered all his senses. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel touch or the icy gushes of wind. He couldn't even see clearly… all he could do was to lead everyone behind him charging towards the Death Eaters and his life's nemesis – Voldemort.

Meanwhile, Draco breathed in air like he had just surfaced from the water. He sank to his knees as he watched Harry and Ron – the people who would very well kill him now.

And as they charged towards him, Voldemort laughed when all the intruders were thrown back like they just walked into a solid wall. He laughed and watched them scurry up to their feet. And he sneered in front of them all, without even a wand in hand.

There was a barrier that the Order couldn't penetrate. And the same barrier serving as their invisible fortress. "You're not welcome here, Harry Potter. This place is for friends and… guests… This occasion is not about you. I'll deal with you later… when you're less… angry." He laughed again knowing that this was sending every nerve in Harry's body on edge. "This night is for our newest comrade…" he stepped aside and extended his hand pointing at… "Draco Malfoy."

Harry didn't want to listen to him. He didn't want to listen to anyone. He just wanted one thing… "I will kill you! I will kill you!" he shouted at Voldemort and at Draco; as, beside him, Ron stood frozen staring at Hermione's body lying motionless at a distance.

The Order members started bellowing spells to break the barrier but everything seemed to bounce off of the wall. And Voldemort only celebrated more as he heard the chorus of spells like music to his ears. "That won't do anything, Harry Potter!" he yelled in impatience. "It's too late for your Mudblood friend. You really have no business here –"

"Shut up!"

"How rude… Nevertheless, you're very much welcome to stay and watch as I brand the Dark Mark on Draco's arm." Voldemort then turned his back on them, pulling out his wand while walking slowly to Draco, who was still on his knees. "Your arm, Draco," he said, extending his hand to accept.

Without a word, Draco offered his hand as he tried to block the thundering anger out of Harry in the distance. "You murderer! I will kill you!"

"Don't pay any attention to them, Draco," Voldemort called on him when his eyes strayed towards Harry and his friends. "They don't know better."

Voldemort took Draco's hand and raised it up. Draco noticed that the faded serrated lines on his arm were now more visible looking like newly-healed cuts. But Voldemort ignored these and buried his wand on Draco's forearm.

Outside, the Orders were still banging on the barrier as Voldemort recited the spell to impress on Draco's skin the Dark Mark. Harry was slowly straining his energy alternately kicking, banging, and screaming various spells to penetrate the shield Voldemort had conjured. He was becoming desperate. "Harry," a solemn voice tried to call him back to himself. "Harry." He felt someone grasp his arm and found Ginny standing beside him. "Harry, look," she said, as she pointed towards the ground with her wand lit at the tip. "That's blood," she continued. But Harry only gazed at her – disorientated and confused.

Ginny looked meaningly at Harry. "Your blood runs in his blood now… that means, you're connected to him as he is also connected with his Death Eaters."

Harry nodded.

Voldemort let go of Draco's arm. He stepped back and watched the mark slowly materialising on Draco's skin. However, the Dark mark was but a shadow on Draco when the traces of the cuts on his forearm suddenly started opening – like they were healing backwards – until they looked clearly like freshly cut self-inflicted wounds. And then they started bleeding… while the Dark Mark was slowly fading… And he kept on bleeding… and bleeding.

Voldemort's sneers turned into displeasure. When the Dark Mark couldn't be imprinted on Draco's skin… he realised what was happening. "You… a coward… just – like – your… father." He immediately left Draco and walked towards Hermione's body. But Draco struggled to get up and come after him.

"No!" Draco shouted. "She's dead! I killed her! Leave her!"

But Voldemort got as close to Hermione as to touch her face with his feet… like some filthy cockroach lying dead on the ground. He looked seemingly satisfied but his face still traced the suspicion that something not right was happening. Yet, he didn't say another word to Draco when one of the Death Eaters called out, "My Lord." He turned and saw that Harry and the rest of the Order had already penetrated the fortress they had conjured.

The other members of the Order began fighting with the Death Eaters. While Harry, pointing his wand straight at Voldemort, didn't waste a second and bellowed a spell.

Unfortunately, Voldemort was quick enough to shield himself. "You are as stubborn as your father, Harry Potter," he sneered. But Voldemort didn't stay. He, then, Disapparated leaving everyone behind. To Harry's frustration, a Death Eater Apparated beside Draco and vanished thereafter, before he could cast any spell on them.

…

A stunning silence followed the leaving of Voldemort followed by the Death Eaters. It sounded like the calm after a storm. Nothing was left but the ruin that was…

…Harry looked down…

Hermione…

…still lying motionless on the ground.

For a while, he couldn't do anything but stare at her pale skin against the moonlight. He didn't even dare touch her for he knew how she would feel – cold and stiff. And all he could hope for was that this was all a dream. A very… very… dreadful nightmare.

In the rush, Harry blankly moved aside as someone walked past him. "Hermione?" It was Tonks; now kneeling beside Hermione, checking for any vital signs.

After a while, Tonks looked up at Harry. She heaved a sigh. And the expression on her face told him what he needed to know.

And he understood.

He turned away and breathed in like he was drowning. He caught Ron's eye who was watching him from a distance. And he, too, understood. He choked at the lump that formed in his throat and he wanted to open the face of the earth just so… he could bring Voldemort into his demise even if it meant he would personally escort him into the mouth of hell.

_Third time._

This is the last straw.

__

~*~*~*~

it had already dried your eyes / that not a tear has fallen / and made you forget / what one must feel to cry -- "bitter"

Well? What do you think? A bit morbid I suppose. But as I said… I like it. Review! Review! 


	6. His Restless Ghost Apart

__

NOW, I'M GIVEN A CHOICE…

Okay, here's the gist of what happened so far. I know it's hard to understand. It was hard for me too. Hehehe...

The thing is... it all started with that blasted thing that was the sword -- that became a dagger after the unnamed Malfoy (Draco's ancestor in the Prologue) reduced it ('Reducio!') because he couldn't get rid of it. See, even after he tried cursing it with 'Evanesco!' for the umpteenth time, it wouldn't disappear... because it was supposed to serve as a reminder. Remember that the unnamed Malfoy came back into the manor (just when the sun was rising) with bloodstain all over him? That_ was what he was being tormented with... the event that happened beforehand. (What it was... well, you'll know in time.) So, then the unnamed Malfoy decided to bury it in the manor dungeons just so he could get rid of it -- well, get it out of his sight, at least._

And for centuries to come... it stayed buried underground until Draco decided to find it. Remember, Draco said that the existence of the sword had been talked about in hush within the family -- that it was buried in the dungeons. And Draco, clever boy that he is, of course found it.

Now, why Draco? Basically, as explained in the 'book' (and unexplained knowledge) of Hermione, the dagger was the Blade of Deliverance -- forgiveness / salvation / mercy / etc. And because Draco is probably the first generation of the Malfoys that actually has a heart... (that comes with a conscience)... he wanted to find the blade because his conscience was already killing him. Although he didn't kill Dumbledore, the thought of being one of the Death Eaters scared him -- that was why he wanted to salvage his soul. And the only way he knew how to do that was... to find the dagger.

So, he found it and in his recluse, he read the words carved on the blade and cut himself four times (because he wanted to cut himself four times, that is). Now, cutting himself -- he felt a bit suicidal and actually believed that he was supposed to die. Why did he think he was supposed to die? Because the first man who did it... died. (Put it through his heart... and as Draco said, it was 'pathetically stupid' but he died, nonetheless)

But instead of death, destiny gave him Hermione. That was why Hermione suddenly appeared in the manor. Draco and Hermione became bound together because Hermione became his salvation -- remember: Hermione said that Draco will save himself by saving her.

Now, salvation is a difficult thing to deal with... it's not served on a silver platter... it's worked for and most likely (because Draco really wanted to die), it will involve the ultimate sacrifice that is death. HOWEVER! However, Draco can't just die for someone with the thought that he's going to be saved -- everything has to be selfless. THAT IS WHY... after Draco and Hermione's conversations in the manor... their memories were altered and they had forgotten all about it -- like a dream that they just couldn't quite remember.

Until comes the day.

So, destiny fed them their memories back slowly... like a challenge; especially for Draco who now realised that he was supposed to kill Hermione -- his first Mudblood kill. And judging by his reactions when Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to capture Hermione... Draco wasn't all pleased, was he?

But still, he was faced with this situation -- and destiny gave him something he actually needed for salvation. After all, according to Hermione, the worst thing Draco has ever done was show prejudice, not murder.

i've grown to be a lot bitter / and nothing's going to get any better / i'll be one of many broken angels / clipping their wings and fading away -- "fallen"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER SIX: His Restless Ghost Apart**

_Draco leaned over Hermione and she felt his breath rushing across her ear then fading into the night; and for a still moment that seemed to have lasted longer than it did, he showed them what they wanted to see… a kiss from one's enemy – a toast to her demise._

But his lips didn't touch her face. Yet his cheek touched hers as he leaned very close to whisper in her ear. And with a voice trembling not because of the cold wind, he spoke. "Now, I'm given a choice… There's still no preparing, Granger. But I'm willing to, nonetheless."

And as if her skin was made of acid, he pulled away, turned around, and then walked away, gripping his wand tighter in his hand like he was getting ready. Hermione wanted to run after him. This couldn't be the answer to everything. There's got to be another way. _She took one step but then, he spun around again and faced her – wand pointing straight to her heart._

"No!" Hermione yelled; her surroundings completely becoming empty. Everything else vanished. All she could see now was Draco staring straight at her, and although the night was between them, his grey eyes opened to Hermione and pierced through the dark like an unbreakable connection. "Draco," she said, pleading… "this doesn't have to happen."

"Oh! And she begs!" Hermione heard the hissing voice of Voldemort that snapped her back to reality – to the presence of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters around her. And one of them stirred in the shadows, stepping forward – uneasy and gazing at Draco meaningly. It was the same Death Eater who wished to hand her back her wand for a more fulfilling kill… It was Snape. She recognised that voice anywhere… It was Snape. She was sure of it.

"Draco, we're waiting." She heard the hissing sound of Voldemort again. She turned back at Draco and closed her eyes.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione opened her eyes, returning herself to the view of the ocean from the rooftop of the Order's headquarters. She wanted to get back and remember. She wanted to get back and know what happened after that… What happened to…?

"You're awake!" a voice so welcome to her ears greeted from behind her. She spun around in a smile, seeing Harry just as glad to see her on her feet. "How are you doing? I went to see you in your room and you were… gone."

Hermione faked a smile. "I'm… not bad," she said; because inside her, a question was burning and waiting to burst. And she didn't waste another minute. "Harry… what happened?"

"What do you mean 'what happened'? You're here. You're alive. And that's all that matters now, doesn't it?"

"I mean _what happened?_ What happened after –?"

"After Malfoy yelled the Killing Curse you mean?" Harry interrupted, his tone upset.

"Yes. I mean… yes… I mean, no, what –?" she paused. She eyed Harry waiting for some sort of answer to every question she had. But he wasn't saying anything. She closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts… and then suddenly, she remembered something. "Harry, where's Mum and Dad?" She started for the door. "Are they okay? Where are they?"

But Harry restrained her and said reassuringly, "They're fine, Hermione. They're inside talking to Mrs Weasley and Ginny and well, can you imagine, McGonagall making small talk?" He smiled as Hermione did so herself. He shifted his gaze, knowing for sure what Hermione was going to say next. "When… when we went out looking for them – the members of the Order that disappeared from the map; and your parents – they were scattered all over the Unplottable areas. It was a ploy. It was all part of Voldemort's plan to mislead us. And… the last place we looked… well, it was the manor… Malfoy's. Because –"

"Because after all," Hermione interrupted, "he wasn't able to kill Dumbl—"

"But he still played a part! And he could've killed you."

"But he didn't," Hermione insisted. She knew Harry would disagree – even disagree violently – but she knew something… she felt something that he probably wouldn't ever understand. "Harry… I let myself be taken by Voldemort. _I_ let myself be summoned – Listen. I don't know how. And I don't know why. But I just knew. I knew that Draco wasn't going to kill me." She paused, waiting for Harry to react.

"But…" Harry started slowly. Somehow, there was a part of him that didn't want to discuss this. Because it was a different memory that flashed in his mind every time he heard Malfoy yell the Killing Curse in his head. "…he yelled the curse pointing straight to your heart… he did."

"I know that. It's always the last thing I see every time I try to remember. But you can't just kill somebody with that curse. You have to mean it. And… he didn't mean it. He didn't mean it, Harry, that's why I'm still here."

"But… Tonks felt you and… and… she looked at me… and you were cold… and stiff… and you weren't breathing… and… We all thought you were dead!"

"But then, no magic could've saved me. No magic can bring back the dead –" Hermione stopped and turned away. It almost felt like uttering words from another person's mouth – a person from a memory long forgotten. "I guess… I guess he cast other nonverbal spells so that it would seem that I was really dead. Voldemort wanted him to kill me, right? He's unpredictable in some ways and just in case he checks if I was really killed… Draco must've thought…" But then she realised something else. She was awake. And that meant that whatever spell Draco had put on her had worn off or – "The killing curse only rendered me unconscious – badly – but I could easily wake up from that… but the other curse… You said you all thought I was dead… so you couldn't have known how to bring me back. It couldn't have worn off just in time…" her voice faded and she turned around to look at Harry. She closed her eyes, took one deep breath and swallowed before meeting Harry's gaze again. "But that must mean… the one who cast it d-died…"

Harry remained silent. He took a step towards her but he shifted his gaze to the ocean. "I don't know what to make of it. I was desperate for an explanation, too. And now maybe I've found what I've been asking for. But… But still, it's hard to admit it – that Dumbledore's faith was right all along. And that there's definitely something more to it that I don't understand."

"What does that mean?"

"Hermione… I… I don't… want to make a deadly mistake again. I'm tired of people leaving… But this is the biggest risk I've ever taken and when everything goes wrong after this… I'm going to take Voldemort down in any way, even if I go down with him."

* * * * *

Hermione came out into the grassy lawn behind the headquarters. She came out here after pleading to Harry not to tell anyone yet that she had woken up. Because she wanted to do this first – to remember more of what happened before everyone else bombard her with the same questions to _her_ questions.

It was weird… knowing that all the people practically living inside that building were busy eradicating the forces of Voldemort and yet, somehow, someone managed to take their time and grew a bit of a garden outside.

The clearing had a few furniture where some of the Order members probably drank their afternoon tea. But at his hour, when the sun was slowly setting over the horizon, no one was there but the person she had been meaning to talk to ever since her conversations with Harry. Because this person deserved it; and _she_ also deserved it.

She approached the person standing hidden behind the tree… in a trance over the setting sun – hair softly dancing with the wind; hands in pockets – looking serene and almost peaceful.

As she walked slowly towards him, she imagined what he would say.

And she knew Ron would be furious with her if not extremely annoyed. She could've really been dead right now. Ron would surely tell her that it was a foolish thing to do – to trust her life on someone who had always been discriminate against Muggleborns and Halfbloods. But she knew that it was time to face the music for that blasted song wouldn't stop ringing in her ears.

She neared the figure leaning austere on the tree. His eyes were now closed seeming to be persistently trying to block off all sounds and thoughts. But she proceeded, nonetheless – determined to break the excruciation of the icy… numbing void that had clearly formed between the two of them.

"Hi," she said slowly. She waited for a reply or some sort of movement but there was no response. His eyes were fixed closed as the sun finally was able to colour his skin with its red-yellow rays. He remained still. Hermione's predictions were probably right… he wouldn't even want to hear her voice – at least not now. So she turned to leave without saying another word.

But then…

…as faint as the whisperings of the wind…

…she heard him.

"Granger," he called in that ever familiar voice. Yet, the tone was solemn – almost pained and grieving.

__

~*~*~*~

i wait for somebody who knew / to see me and feel me through -- "somebody"

And after all the berating between the two of them... Draco finally understood that he was given a choice -- as he whispered in Hermione's ear. Draco believed that if he chose to live, then he might as well Apparate himself into damnation. But if he chose to save Hermione, he would die -- because Voldemort would kill him. But he took his chances and devised his plan.

See, when the scars 'healed backwards', the blood washed away the Dark Mark. And because the Dark Mark couldn't be imprinted on Draco's skin, Voldemort was furious because he knew that something was wrong and the first thing he thought of was that Hermione was probably still alive (and called Draco a 'coward'). Fortunately, Voldemort had little time to examine Hermione (who was unmoving, cold, and stiff) and Disapparated from sight just when Harry and the Order of the Phoenix had penetrated their shield.

And yes, Hermione was still alive. And yes, so was Draco. After all, who else calls her 'Granger'?

Chapter Seven next week! Leave a review for now.


	7. Deliverance

__

THIS, NOW, IS YOUR DELIVERANCE

to the one i hurt so much… i pray to the heavens… every night… to heal the pain… that might still burden you inside… -- "sorry"

~*~*~*~

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Deliverance**

Hermione spun around, a smile played on her lips. But her expression quickly turned sombre when Draco only looked at her blankly – or maybe this was a face that showed her his vulnerability for there was no expression of arrogance… It was empty… like she was supposed to fill him with something to feel.

"I…"

"You see, there's something worse than dying, Granger. Living like a prisoner sort of wins it all, doesn't it?"

"But you're not a prisoner here, Draco."

Draco breathed out heavily; shaking his head. "I'm a prisoner of Voldemort. Do you not think that he's out there searching for me? The moment I step out that door…"

"He would mercilessly kill you just like he did all the other Death Eaters who turned against him," Hermione finished as Draco's words faded. She caught him wince at her words but something told her it wasn't about what she said. Because even if it was hardly a second, she saw him shook his right hand as if getting rid of a pang of pain that just crawled through his arm. "It was real, then?" Draco turned away. "The pictures… the places… the… the visions I've seen…"

But although he still had the scars to prove it, he couldn't help but doubt if they happened. After all, where was the dagger that started everything? "I don't know," he replied, far more honest than what he had intended to be.

"You don't know?" Hermione said impatiently.

Draco glared at her, not pleased that she was doubting him… after all these. "I asked for death in the visions, didn't I?" he snapped. "Destiny was supposed to give me death. Do I look _dead_ to you, Granger?"

"No." Hermione shook her head a she tried to meet his eyes. "No. You asked to be free, Draco. Death was what you wanted. Or what you think you deserved. But you're not the one who calls the shots."

"What do you know about what I want?"

She stepped forwards – unafraid this time. There were only a few paces in between them now and she wanted him to hear every – single – word she had to say. "The fact that since that night you escaped Voldemort and came here with Snape hoping that the Order would believe you were here to revive me – that you didn't kill me… you stayed here. Here, Draco – within the protection of the Order. You didn't go and get yourself killed. You waited for me. You waited to see when I'd wake up. You wanted to know that I would be okay. Because that's what you wanted, Draco. You wanted to change. And that saved you. Now, you know that this… this is your second chance. _This,_ now, is your deliverance – a clean slate which you would choose whether to taint or to live up to. You sought for a choice. And destiny gave it to you."

There was silence for a while. Draco found himself staring through her eyes again – like that night when all he could reach for was her gaze to keep him from falling to the ground. And this they would both remember… without fate interfering with their memories – his eyes watered with salty tears as he unburdened his pains for her to see. "But is this what I deserve, Granger?" he muttered, unwilling to break his gaze.

Hermione pressed her lips together and heaved a sigh. She reached for his hand and felt… warmth. "I know you want to prove more than this – even if you might deny it. But this is only the start. You know that Harry is risking a lot when you were welcomed here. And when he forced himself to trust Snape going back to Voldemort. But, Draco, believe me. We are faced with the same choice very – single – minute – of – every – day. You're with us now. And I know that I can trust you. I trusted you with my life. I'm not going to doubt dong that again."

Draco smirked – more friendly than his arrogant sneers. He reached into his robes and pulled out a wand then stretched his hands to Hermione. "This belongs to you." Hermione recognised her wand and accepted it even with the curious expression on her face. "It was Snape. He was one of them who broke in to your house that night." He stopped but Hermione waited knowing that there was something more to it than he was letting out. "He was the one who taught me the nonverbal spell I had to perform aside from the killing curse. It was a risk – because we had to come here and try to rescue you. No one would know you're still alive unless I myself lifted the curse.

"They almost killed us – well, Weasley had his hands around my neck even before Potter could aim his wand at me." He smiled when Hermione let out a soft laugh. "I know it's not only Harry who's risking a lot taking me in and trusting Snape. It's all the people in there. But I'm used to being hated; and people watching their backs while I'm around doesn't quite live up to the usual loathing I get." He took in a deep breath. He was alive and for now, out of Voldemort's reach… but somehow, "I don't belong here, Granger," he said, turning back to the sunset he was watching. Hermione watched him lean back on his tree. His skin finally reflected the glorious colours of the sun's rays. "I'm not like you and everyone in there. I don't do battles. I don't take Killing Curses for someone else –"

"Didn't you just risk your life for me?"

However, Draco ignored her and continued, "– But for now, this'll do." And he let out a contented sigh; realising that this was the most human conversation he had ever had in his life. It was different – not being chided on what was supposed to be; what he was supposed to do.

It was uncertain, that was for sure.

But he never felt more at ease.

__

~*~*~*~

you won't hear me weep in the dark / you won't see me shed a tear tonight / you won't know that i'd find time to hurt later / and you'll never learn that i'd brave to cry some time -- "cry some time"


	8. In the Beginning

__

ONE DAY YOU'LL BEG FOR MERCY

on the edge of breaking down / of jumping to fall bloody on the ground / i spread my arms up into the sky / though i know no one's catching me before i die -- "fallen"

~*~*~*~

**EPILOGUE: In the Beginning**

Weeping for the blood on his hands… the stench that he could not wash even with the biting salts of the sea… he knelt on the shore as the waves slowly buried him on the beach. He released the sword from his grip and dug his fingers through the warm coarseness of the sand. How he wished to dissolve and merge with the sea, the earth, the wind… or even the slow rising sun. For living came with feeling and feeling came with the nagging conscience he was gifted with – or cursed with – for he was only an ordinary human; without any other abilities to pull out of himself in this time of complete despair. He was not like them. He was only a prisoner. He could not hone the powers of the dark like they could… but it was over now. He was free. Nobody would enslave him any longer.

He ended them. He ended them all.

They thought they had him under control… for they always pointed at him cursing and threatening the life out of him so he would do their bidding. And they thought that was enough. But the desire of man is more powerful than any enchantment. For a man desperate enough will find a way even with the use of his bare hands. And so he crept in each of their rooms and with the sharp edges of metal in his hand, he struck their hearts… before they could scream… even before they could blink. No dark power could stop the raging of his heart.

But when what was done was done, a veil lifted from his eyes and then in long agonising moments everything flashed in his mind. He was no better than them. For he killed. He ended life – no, lives. He killed a whole family because he wanted his freedom. He was never going to fear their odd behaviours any more – no more dark magic. Because they were now dead and no one can bring back the dead – not even dark magic. Only destiny and the powers paramount to these abilities they called wizarding sorcery could change anything.

_Witches! But they deserve to burn!_ he thought, struggling with his conscience. _They're evil… Sons and daughters of the Dark! Didn't I do the world a favour? Send them back to where they belong?_

"But I'm no killer!" he screamed at the sea. His voice echoed through the empty silence of dawn. "There's blood on my hands and blood meant life. I'm just as dark as them. For I did to them what they had not done to me… I slay them all… like filthy animals."

He watched the sun now peeking from the horizon. Somehow, it looked like no start of day. To him, the sun looked as red as blood casting its light to an even more crimson sea. He pulled himself, picked up the sword that was now half-buried in the sand, and walked towards the sea until his knees were submerged in the water. "Who's going to save me now?" he muttered under his breath, caressing the sharp edge of the blade as if longing to dig it into his arms and his heart. "I killed… now I must do the world a favour and rid it of a sinner, a tainted soul."

He might have been no killer after all because this deed had caused his mind to lead him astray. He became insane in so short a time for his conscience had eaten him up. He did not even realise that he was now slighting his pale arms with the sharp blade. Blood was dripping in gradual crescendo towards the sea and he was feeling life draining out of him. Yet, as he fell down on his knees pleading the heavens to save him, a hand grabbed him from behind, pulled him up, and turned him around.

"You _filthy_ Muggle low-life!"

"M-Master?" he stuttered and to his surprise, dropped the blade he clutched in his hand.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the intruder said with much disgust. He clutched his slave's shirt and stared straight with his ferocious grey eyes. "What have you done?! What have you done to my family?!" he screamed and let go, dropping the man onto the ground.

But the man could not think any more clearly. "But you're dead…" his voice trailed, examining his Master, "…with my own hands…" his speech completely faltered when he saw blood on his Master's clothes. He then realised that when he struck…

"You missed my heart. Was that what you were aiming for?" the Master said, pulling out something from his pocket. "If you want to kill, slave, you have to do it right. Like this!" he raised his hand and pointed a wand straight to his servant's heart.

"No! No," the servant backed away hastily as the Master yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

But maybe it was luck – or perhaps destiny – that the moment bright green lights escaped from his Master's wand, he tripped on something in the sands and fell back.

His Master missed his heart.

There within the sand under the waters he felt the smooth metal against his skin. And clutching it tightly with his fingers, he stood up.

The Master laughed incredulously. "What are you going to do?" he said as he advanced into the water towards the servant. "Stab me again? Wait until I fall asleep and then you'd come and betray me? I have nothing, Muggle. You killed my family. The only thing I have left is something I really don't detest losing –" he stopped when suddenly…

The servant – the man who was in despair of hope – as if in a trance, raised the sword with both hands with the tip pointing straight to his chest. And like someone else's voice came out of his mouth, he spoke:

"I beseech thee with my blood and my life. 'Tis my redemption – to take me away from these pains. Cleanse my soul and rid me of taint. I relinquish in your powers. Fate! Come forth and hear me! I beg you to break these shackles!"

And with one strike, he dug the blade into his heart and looked at his Master with pleading eyes. With his last remaining strength, he dragged himself towards the youngest member of the wizarding family he once served. "Witches… evil dark witches!" he muttered with anger, spitting blood onto the sea. He stared at the man before him and he watched as his grey eyes widen in astonished interest. "One day you'll beg for mercy," he said, knowing this would be his last breath. "It may not be you… but it will be a Malfoy. It will be your blood."

~~THE END~~

02 October 2006

__

~*~*~*~

in bits and pieces they might pick themselves up / 'tll his mind starts to listen and refuses to shut / the shouts may start into fading whispers / but spirits don't die, they will linger forever… -- "unrest"


End file.
